


They Said it was The War to End All Wars

by Raelae



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, WW1, War Fic, doctor who - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-03-31 13:15:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3979390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raelae/pseuds/Raelae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Smith was about to start his career as a school teacher, when word came that England was entering the Great War. Like most men, John decided to do his part for god, country, and Queen; living under the assumption the war would be over by Christmas. This of course proved wrong. Now, trying to live with the thickening blood on his hands, he tries to make it through an unforgiving war. He manages through his friend Jack Harkness and two women he befriends, Martha Jones and Rose Tyler. But as is always with war, nothing ever stays happy long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I haven't abandoned my other Doctor Who fic, just at a point where I need to take a bit more time with it, cause I tend to work too fast when I reach certain parts and it becomes rubbish. >> So I'm still working on it, it will just be a bit slower so i don't mess it up. In the meantime I thought I'd post this bit I've had around for a bit to tide you over during the slow times. It's sort of a test though to see how well it's received, to see if I'll continue it. 
> 
> So, that said, please enjoy.

John sat quietly at the bar, throwing his head back to down another shot. All around him other men, much drunker than he, were hooting and hollering. Regaling the tales of the day or proudly emphasizing just what it was they were going to do to the Germans and the rest of the Central Powers. John could honestly care less, he just wanted to get home in one piece.

Grabbing for the bottle again, he poured more of the brownish liquid into the shot glass, peering down into it for a moment. He hadn't really been much of a drinker, before the war anyway. He'd been one of the many who jumped in for the glory, to 'rid the world of evil'. Way he saw it he wasn't doing anything much different then the enemy. They just had different views about their actions.   
So it was, after he took more lives than he could count, that he started to drink. It helped to make the visions in his mind go, if only for a short time, just long enough to allow him some sleep. But his waking hours were again always filled with blood and death.

Most men had family, or a girl of some sort to write home to, someone to get their minds off everything, remind them they were still human. He didn't have anyone really. His mum died giving birth to him, his dad pretty much abandoned him because of it, so they weren't in his life. Most his friends had signed up with him...he was the only one out of the whole lot that was still alive…  
His aunt, who had raised him, died of fever two years before the war had broken out, and the rest of his family was AWOL. He'd never met them in fact. And so, it was just him.

Sighing, he tore his eyes away from the liquid at last and knocked it back, letting the burning liquid creep down his throat. He wasn't drunk yet, but he was feeling it. And it was getting rather warm in the old rundown pub...cafe...thingumyjig. Whatever you wanted to call it really. It was for drinking and eating but it looked to be an old house damaged by shelling. 

He shook his head and wiped a bit of sweat that had started beading on his forehead. Must be from the amount of people that were crowded in here, cause it really wasn't that warm out right now.  
Giving in a bit, he reached down and pulled at the brass buttons of his brown military issued top, sliding it off and setting it on an empty seat beside him. He shrugged his suspenders off his shoulders as well, finding them to be uncomfortable at the moment. He then resumed his drinking, ignoring the men who were growing louder and louder behind him.

He downed a few more shots before the noise behind him became too loud to ignore any longer. He could hear the sounds of chair and table legs sliding across the floor, followed by a loud crashing sound that unmistakably meant a fight had started.   
Letting out a long sigh, he ducked his head low just as a bottle flew through the air and crashed against the wall in front of him. One thing he could take from this war thing, it made his instincts better.

He continued to drink rather than get involved with what was going on behind him, wasn't his problem anyway.  
But over time, it slowed up as some more sober men started breaking it up. He could hear the barkeep getting involved now and quite a few people were kicked out. No skin off his back, maybe he could drink in silence at last.

That didn't last long though as someone dropped into the seat opposite him, the one his top wasn't currently residing in.

“Well, that could have went better.” He heard someone say in a very American accent. Really, he should have known.

Turning his head slowly, he saw Captain Jack Harkness sitting next to him, a grin stretched broadly ear to ear across his face.

“For god sake Jack.” John uttered in his thick Scottish accent. “Is this all you do?”

Jack only clapped him on the back, removing his already disheveled uniform top. “You know me John. Can't miss out on a little fun.”

“That's not fun, that's being a complete bonehead.”

“Someones having a bad night. How long have you been on R&R?”

“Just got here today. Spent months in that bloody trench.” He said with a scowl, grabbing the bottle and taking a swig directly from it this time.

“Would explain the drinking. Don't think I've ever seen you properly guttered before.”

John only shrugged, setting the bottle down. “...how is it flying in the Royal Flying Corps?”

“Not bad, I quite like being up in the sky. But, this is the first break I've had in a while.”

“So you spend your break from fighting doing more fighting? Makes sense.”

“I'm a pilot John, you know our expectancy.”

“Mines not any better. Any time over the top could be my last...I mean...what the bloody hell was I thinking signing up? I'm a teacher, not a soldier...”

“Won't have any place to teach if the Germans overrun England. Scotland will go right away...Ireland...and who knows, maybe even beyond...”

“Would get the American's into the war...”

“They're far removed from this right now...can't blame them for wanting to stay out of it. But it's just a matter of time John...they'll be involved soon enough...”

“I just want it over...I sure as hell will never complain about life being boring ever again...”

Jack frowned as he watched John sulk, the poor man nearly sprawled out across the counter. Giving him a sympathetic look, he grabbed the bottle John was drinking from, earning him a glare, but he took a swig anyway. He wiped his mouth afterward and slammed the bottle down, trying to come up with some way to lighten the mood.

“...I'm disappointed in you.”

“...pardon?” John said as he lifted his head.

“You're not wearing your kilt anymore.” Jack said, pulling a pouty face.

John glared even deeper. “...it's getting too cold for that...besides I enjoy my trousers better, keeps you from trying to hike it up to see if I'm going commando or not.”

Jack let out a loud laugh, clapping him on the back again, almost sending the poor man face first into the counter.

“When you get the chance why the hell not?”

“Look what I crawl around in everyday Jack. Not doing that with nothing under it...Christ. Don't you have a boyfriend or something...?” He said, though he said the last part a bit quieter. A lot of the men wouldn't be too keen on that bit of knowledge.

“He doesn't care if I flirt a bit, he knows I don't mess around. Plus it's you so...” He took another swig.

“You saying I'm not a good looker?”

“For a man who's straight you're mighty defensive.”

“...bugger off.” He mumbled, but there was a small smirk involved. Jack had managed to pick his friends mood up a bit.

Jack chuckled a bit, finishing off the bottle. He'd decided John had had more than enough. “Well then, should probably get you to bed.”

“You're not my mum.”

“No, I'm not. That would be weird. But you most certainly can't get back on your own, so come on.”

Giving in, John reached over and slipped his top back on, somehow finding his way to his feet. Jack threw his top back on and did the same, moving them over towards the door. He yanked both their coats from the rack and very awkwardly tried to maneuver John into his.

After that was accomplished, he shrugged his on and lead John into the cold night air. The crisp air nearly sobered John up right then and there, nearly. But it certainly did wake him up a bit. 

It was quiet and dark for the most part, only a few lamps lit here and there and this was only by flame alone. The only other people around were drunken soldiers like themselves, a mixture of drunken dialects floating on the air. No civilians lurked anywhere on the streets, night to them was like being in the monsters den. Night didn't end the fighting, it only covered the advances of emboldened men. Like every shadow could hold a German, or a Austro-Hungarian or something. Or any of the Central Powers. Night...was as feared as day.

Jack looked down at John as he heard his friend mumble something. He had to ask him to repeat himself as he couldn't quite get the words from his now slurring speech. How the hell did he seem drunker than when they left?

John only elbowed him in response, trying to get him to look. It took Jack a minute but he got it finally, turning them towards one of the many multi floored buildings being used for soldiers on rest from the front.

He got them inside and up the stairs, rather awkwardly, to the second floor, stopping in front of a door with cracked blue paint and a number ten.

Jack managed to get the door open, dragging John inside and flopping him down on the bed. After closing the door, he pulled John out of his coat and slung it over a chair, pulling John a little ways off the bed afterward, in case he got sick. But he didn't have any intention of leaving him anyway, so he pulled up another chair and sat by the bed.

It was a long period of silence with neither speaking, Jack was even starting to drift off till he heard John say something.

“What was that?”

“...I'm the last...”

“...what do you mean?”

“...I just got word today...it happened in April but...the letter only got here today...”

“Letter? About what?”

“...my friend...he was killed in Ypres...”

“...the gas attack...” Jack said under his breath, but it was still just loud enough to be heard.

John slowly nodded. “Everyone I signed up with...is gone. There's only me now...”

Jack frowned, running a hand over his face. Whole families, whole towns, were wiped out by this war. There had been whole graduating classes that were decimated within a year after signing up. You were considered a vet if you survived more than three battles. John had managed almost two years somehow. Would be by years end. Even he himself had managed about as long, having joined shortly after John had. He wanted to fly, and the French were accepting anyone. You were lucky to live a month as a pilot, in the trenches you might find yourself in a cushy position, not fighting at all and free of bombardment. So, you had a better chance in the trenches. There were large groups all around you when you went over the top besides, more targets, there weren't as many targets in the skies. And if other planes didn't get you, the Archie might, as the British so dubbed it.

“...you're not alone John...” Jack said at last. But it wasn't met with the result he had anticipated. He blinked a few times as John sat straight up, fear in his eyes.

“Don't. Just don't. Don't ever say it. It's war Jack...there's no promises.”

Jack was caught off guard and he could honestly admit that he was a bit unsettled. He'd never seen John act like this in all his years of knowing him. He knew the booze was more or less the cause but, the fear was very real. The alcohol just caused the blockade to break.

“Alright. Okay. I won't say it...”

John relaxed a bit at that, but only slightly. He feared being alone as much as he feared his own demise. Though he wasn't sure when that came about. Up till this point he had quit caring about his own survival. Guess he was just lying to himself.

“Lay back down John. Try to get some rest cause you're going to have one hell of a headache in the morning.”

John made no complaints and returned to his original position, head hanging off the bed. Within minutes he was good and truly out, dead to the world.

Jack sighed, leaning his head back a bit. He wasn't tired anymore.

 

Come morning, John found himself alone in an insanely brightly lit room, and a head pounding so hard he could barely hear right. He pushed himself up, already regretting it as his head nearly caused him to drop again. But he had to get up, he had to shut that damned curtain.

Finally managing to find his feet, he put in arm in front of his face in some attempt to cover his eyes from the light, managing it enough to get to the curtains and pull them shut. He let out a sigh of relief and dropped his arm, his head already throbbing a little less, though not by much. It was enough though to be productive. 

He made his way over to the bedside table where a porcelain bowl and a pitcher sat. He reached for the pitcher and poured the water into the bowl, savoring the cool feel of the water once he was able to splash it on his face. He regretted last night. Yup. Every bit of it.

It was now that he noticed the extra coat in the room, in a chair pulled close to the bed. How he'd missed that when he got up he wasn't sure. Blame the hangover he supposed.  
It only took an extra moment though to realize it was Jacks. He must have stayed to keep an eye on him or something, he really couldn't remember. The night was a bit of a blur.

Splashing his face one last time, he chucked off his military top and pulled his suspenders up on his shoulders, heading out the door. He was in no mood for food but coffee would help.

Entering the designated eating area, he found Jack seated in a chair, left eye black and a busted lip. His reaction was to roll his eyes at the pilot.

“The hell have you done now?” He asked as a women came over to fuss with Jacks face.

“Some of the guys from last night were staying here. They jumped me.”

“And busted up my foyer.” An older women added as she entered the room, clearly infuriated. “I know most this town is 'rubbish' as you would put it with the fighting and what not. But I would like what few things I have left to stay in tact.” She pushed. Her French accent got harder and harder to understand the angrier she got.

“Don't be so hard on him, he didn't start the fight, they jumped him.” The woman who was working on Jack said, turning her head to look over her shoulder. Her British accent surprising John at first.

“They're still problems from last night that he brought here. Do not defend the man Martha.”

The younger woman only shook her head as the other exited back to the kitchen, apparently done with all soldiers as she complained the whole way back into the kitchen.

“Don't worry about Mrs. Brodeur. She means well.”

“She means to bite my head off...” Jack grumbled.

“Your own fault. If you weren't picking fights all the time.” John stated.

“They started it then too. Honestly, it's not always my fault.”

“Doesn't matter either way.” Martha added as she dabbed a cloth at his split lip. “Still happened. Nothing you can do about it. But what you can do is stop talking so I can clean you up.”

“...you have nursing knowledge?” John asked as he reached for the coffee pot, a bit surprised considering her color. Something he of course had no issue with and he was sickened that others did.

“...my father taught me some things yes. One of his oldest friends became a doctor, and taught him despite his race. I'll tell you one thing sir, one day we'll be able to do everything anyone else can. Women too.”

John smirked at this, taking a sip of his coffee.” Now that Miss, is a future I look forward to. And please, call me John.”

She smiled a bit, looking more relaxed now that she knew he wasn't one of those simple minded people. “And you John, may call me Martha.”

“As you will Martha. Might do you some good to sew his mouth shut while you're at it, might keep him out of trouble for a bit.”

She laughed a bit while Jack just gave him a lopsided glare. One that said he was amused yet that he wasn't at the same time.

“There you go.” Martha said as she finished up. “Good as can be. Just try to stay out of trouble from here on out. I'm not a surgeon, I can't put anything back in one of those blokes might pull out.”

Jack started to open his mouth, no doubt to begin one of his double entendre, but he was cut off by John.

“Stop it. Don't even go there Jack.”

“You know me too well.”

“Yeah, unfortunately for me.”

“Martha! I could use a hand here dear if you please?”

“Coming Mrs. Brodeur! If you'll excuse me boys.” She flashed them a pleasant smile before disappearing into the kitchen.

“Well, what now?” Jack asked, poking at his lip a bit.

“Well, we could have a proper look around, see what we can find to do in this town that doesn't involve drinking.”

“Yeah, think we both could use a break from that.” Jack agreed.

“Well, lets find out then. As the French would say, Allons-y!”

 

They hadn't found all that much to do. They for the most part just walked around the small town, enjoying small talk and on occasion stopping to help a citizen out. At one point John had to pull Jack away from a game of chance, they were after all trying to avoid trouble, not add onto it. 

By midday they were starving so their new course became finding food. They did find a small little house towards the edge of town, a modest little building with makeshift tables and chairs out front. It look pleasurable enough, so they made the decision to stop there.

They both ordered some sandwiches and while they waited, they enjoyed some coffee and continued their small talk.

“So...how is it out on the front anyway...you're still on the Western yeah?” Jack asked, folding and unfolding the corner of his napkin.

John paused for a moment, taking a sip of his coffee before he answered. “Yeah...I'm still on the Western Front, and it's hell...how could it be anything else? About the only good thing coming out of it is the fact I've learned quite a good amount of French. Learning a new language is a little more entertaining than playing cards all the time, or watching the others chatting lice...” He shivered a bit at that.

“You're a braver man than I sitting around in those trenches month in and out.”

“Me? A braver man? There's no way I could climb into one of those planes without being scared out of my wits. Getting shot down in one of those is straight up death...” He paused for a moment. “...sorry, that can't be helping you.”

“What? It's true. Doesn't stop me from doing it though. I love being up there among the clouds...well, as close to them I can get anyway.”

“What I don't get is, they have bloody parachutes, why the hell won't they let you use them?”

“They think it promotes cowardice or something. Like we'll jump ship, so to speak, if we get too scared. I'm sure that'll change with time though.”

“One would hope.” John mumbled as he took another sip of coffee. “I mean, just how many men do they want to lose anyway?”

“A lot by the way they're running things. They're all numbers more than strategy. Like throwing a hundred more men in than you had the day before will make a difference.”

“That about sums it up. No mans land is littered with the dead...every time we go over the top, you can assume to lose hundreds sometimes...”

“Well, it's the same on both sides at least. Evens the numbers out a bit...”

“They're still humans too Jack.”

“You think that now, wait and see if this war goes on a few more years. All they'll be then is in your way of getting home.”

John leaned back in his chair, pulling at his earlobe a bit.

“I'm sure that day will come Jack, I won't like it but, I know it'll happen. But for now...we're all just terrified men wondering if all this was really worth it. I was in the trenches...for Christmas you know...”

“You were? Did you...did you take part?”

John nodded slowly, momentarily taken back to that time.

“...we were sitting in the trenches...each man drawing another a Christmas card on a piece of note pad...there wasn't much else to do after all. There was no tree, no dinner...this small bit was appreciative enough. But then...I heard it...”

“Heard it?”

John nodded again. “Singing...from across No Mans Land...I still remember the words...  
Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht,   
Alles schläft; einsam wacht   
Nur das traute hochheilige Paar.   
Holder Knabe im lockigen Haar,   
Schlaf in himmlischer Ruh! Schlaf in himmlischer Ruh!“

“...Silent Night...I heard about that...“

John let out a long sigh, fiddling with the bronze buttons on his trench coat. “I slowly popped my head up over the trench a bit...saw the German soldier just outside his own trench...few of his other buddies had their heads popped up. Some of them were yapping at him, alarmed. Guessing they were telling him to pop back down, but he didn't. He kept singing...so I popped up...put my hands out to the side to show him they were empty. Started singing too...Before I knew it everyone on both sides were out of the trenches and heading towards each other. Officers on both sides were yelling but...they gave up after a bit. We met mid field and shook hands...first time I looked at a German without fear...”

“Heard it was quite the party...up and down the Front.”

“Oh yes. We swapped items, like a proper gift exchange. Some of the boys sat down and played cards, but a good lot of us started up a game of football...best day of the whole damn war it was...”

“Till it was over...”

“...was hard putting them into my sights again...but, it didn't take long for survival to kick in. After a while it felt like none of that had ever happened.”

“After a while...things like that will quit happening too.”

“We've already been warned about it this year. I've talked to some boys that said if the other sides up for it they'll do it again but...officers have been given orders to strictly advise against it. Probably even shoot anyone that tries if necessary. Guess it is surmountable to treason...”

“Will you do it again?”

“No. I know less and less men will be doing it this year. Trying could get me shot by either side in this case, not worth it really.”

He stopped talking as the waitress came over with their sandwiches, a different one than the one who had taken their order. Whereas the last waitress was a brunette with a heavy French accent, this woman was blond with a very British one.

“Here you go boys.” She said with a smile, tongue tip sticking out between her teeth.

“Why thank you. Captain Jack Harkness by the way, and you are?”

“Stop it.” John warned.

“I'm just saying hello.”

John gave him a look that very strictly implied that he was not dumb, and do not insult my intelligence.

The blond only giggled at this. “Well, it's a pleasure to meet you Captain.”

“Please, Jack is fine.”

“Jack then. And my names Rose. And your friend here?”

For a moment John said nothing, slightly dumbfounded that this, dare he say, pretty blond was talking to him. Not like it was anything new to him, just the first time it had happened in a while. Not saying that Martha hadn't been pretty either, he wasn't saying that...wait...why in the hell was he trying to justify himself in his own head?

“John Smith.” He said after a long drawn out moment. He hadn't even been sure how long he had been sitting quietly like that, confounded stupid look on his face.

Rose giggled again. “Nice to meet you too mate.”

“British girl way out here, would have expected you with the Red Cross or something, not just a little ol' waitress in a cafe.” Jack put forth.

“Well, I did come out to do just that but, didn't really see it as my calling, yeah. But since I was here, had to do something right? Didn’t want to head back to London and twiddle my thumbs with a war going on. Even a girl wants to do something for her country.”

“So you became a waitress in a makeshift cafe?” John asked, quickly putting his hands up in defense after. “Oh that was rude, I apologize. Not saying you couldn't do anything else, just...uh...”

“Easy mate, it's alright.” She said, laughing again. “Just here to help out, lots of boys coming in from the front for a breather and not enough people to cover it all. That doesn't mean I don't have other things planned though.”

“Well, any helps appreciated that's for sure.” Jack said, taking a bite from his sandwich.

Looking around, Rose didn't see anyone else around at the time, and she hadn't heard anyone call her back inside yet, so she pulled a chair out. 

“You boys mind if I have a seat?”

“Not at all.” John said before taking a bite of his own sandwich.

“So Army and a Fly boy. Don't tend to see both kinds together at once.”

“We've been friends since we were wee lads.” John said, taking another bite and chewing before continuing again. “He ended up going off to America for a while when we were still pretty young. His parents bounced him around a lot.”

“I think I can tell my own life story John.” He said, smirking with one side of his mouth.

“You haven't stopped stuffing your mouth for five seconds, thought you wouldn't mind.”

“Fair enough.”

“But yeah, he came back around the time I was heading off to University. You try getting any learning done with this mate around. Was getting me in more trouble than anything he was.”

“Sounds pretty typical for close mates.” Rose added, propping her elbows on the table and placing her chin on her clasped hands.

“Ain't that the truth? What about you? You come out all this way alone?”

She shook her head slightly. “Came with a friend, Martha. Was going to try to get her in with the Red Cross too but...”

“Martha?” John asked. “She's helping out at the Inn on the main drag yeah?”

“That would be her. Met her have you?”

“She patched me up.” Jack said around a bite of sandwich.

“Manners Jack, Christ.”

“It's alright, used to it. But yeah, that's her. Obviously...it's been complicated for her.”

“It's sad to see some people still have a problem with that. What's it matter what race you are? Humans human aye?”

“If only more people thought like you.”

Jack piped up at this point. “Well, don't give up. Obviously the plan of having this war done by Christmas was shot out the window long ago. I doubt the wars ending any time soon. Just keep on it, they're going to need all the help they can get soon enough. And I doubt too many men are going to care who's working on them, long as they survive.” 

“...how long DO you think this could go on…?

“There's no telling...” John said quietly. “But with as many countries as there are in this world...and everyone having some reason or another to get involved...could be years...?

Rose frowned at this. “Do you think...do you think it'll reach home...”

“...we can only hope it doesn't...” John looked at his hands for a moment. “...I don't know how much more blood I can spill...”

The table fell silent at that point, no one sure what could even be said to lighten the mood anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Jack having to leave early, John continues on with his days of relaxation, gaining deeper bonds with his new friends and even making a rather unconventional new one.

The following days were quieter, as Jack had been called back early due to a shortage. John, on the other hand, still had two more days of leave before he was back in the muddy trenches again. The soon to be frozen trenches, as fall was beginning to move in. He didn't mind cold, what he minded was the fact he was going to be stuck in it for months on end, not for sure knowing when his next break from the front would be.

He laid back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling as thought after thought passed through his head. He had two more days to just be human again, he had to find something to do, not lay here and waste his time. So with a huff, he sat himself up and pushed off the bed, reaching for his trench on the wall. There had to be something in the battered town that he hadn't done yet. He was certain the remaining citizens had to have something they did to keep their minds off the war. As much as they could anyway, they weren't all that far from the front in retrospect.

Deciding to forgo his cap, he buttoned up and exited his room, making sure the door locked tight behind him. Thanks to Jack, he'd been having trouble with some of the other soldiers in town. They didn't have Jack to push around so they supposed a buddy of his would work about as well.  
More than once they'd gotten into his room and made...improvements...that was the best he could call it. Things would be scattered about or moved. Things added for a what the fuck factor. The worst was when they grabbed the standing coat rack from downstairs and gussied it up with clothes, making it look like a person was in the room. What made it worse was one of them had acquired a German trench helmet, the round one with the sharp point on top. He nearly pissed himself when he happened upon it. He then had to pay the Inn keeper for the damage as he had pulled his sidearm and shot it full of holes, putting many into the wall behind it.

...damn Jack and his fights.  
Growling at the memory, he stuffed his hands in his coat pockets and descended the stairs, making his way for the front door.

“Don't bring back anymore trouble! I have enough holes on this building as it is!” Mrs Brodeur called in her thick French accent.

John flinched slightly as he reached for the door handle. “Yes Mademoiselle! I'll be certain to keep my nose clean!”

He was out the door before she could accuse him of being sarcastic or mocking. He swore she was doing her best to act like everyone's mother. She sure seemed like she was at times.

He stopped short, taking a quick breath as the bite of the chill air hit him. He hadn't been expecting it, it was only going into September. It did start to get a bit cold about this time, though warmth could still creep in, but this kind of chill was reserved for later in the fall.

Tightening his shoulders a bit, he gave himself a good shake and continued on down the street, determined to find something to do.  
A few of the locals waved at him as he passed, giving him a courteous smile. He'd only been there a few days but, the people here had come to know him well. He was the only soldier in a while that came into town and didn't cause trouble. Plus, despite being on leave, he often would stop and help out if anyone needed it. On occasion they even caught him with children gathered around, giving them one lesson or another. That's how they came to know he was a teacher, and they were not at all opposed to their children getting some semblance of an education during all this, regardless of how brief.  
The children wouldn't be there much longer anyway, they were starting to move families out of the danger zone as best they could. There had been panic for some time when people started hearing rumors of German atrocities. How whole towns would be massacred. Man, woman, and child. John had never been entirely sure if it truly happened or not, or if it was propaganda. But during war...he wouldn't deny it happening either. Fear is a hell of a way to gain ground in a war, no matter how dastardly the deed to accomplish it may be.

He shook his head, trying to shake the thought free. He was supposed to be finding something to do to relax, get his mind off these things. Not continue thinking about them.

“Oi! John!”

He stopped in his steps and turned, watching as a blond woman bounded towards him. A smile crept it's way on his face as recognition hit him.

“Miss Rose Tyler. How are you?”

“Please, just Rose.” She said as she stopped in front of him. “Fancy some company?”

“I'd be honored.”

She smiled, tongue peeking it's way between her teeth as she walked with him.

“Haven't seen you out and about the last couple days.”

“The blokes Jack had a row with have been laying in on me in his absence, I've been laying low.” He said as he diverted his eyes.

“...dealing with bullies then, yeah?”

“Hilarious isn't it? A grown man dealing with this...and a teacher to boot...” 

She laughed at this, the irony amusing. He didn't seem as amused though.

She elbowed him gently, keeping a smile on her face. “Don't worry bout that lot. If they meant you any true harm you'd have already seen it. Sides...I don't think anyone really wants to risk taking a fellow solider out of action during all this…

“...suppose not. Even when they roughed Jack up, it wasn't that bad...speaking of all this though...do you think it's really safe staying around here? I heard a lot of the people will be heading off soon. You'll be going too yes?”

“Suppose I'll have to. Doesn't sound like many people are going to stick around here.”

“Will you go back to England?”

“...not sure yet. Certainly have family who would like me to. Mums right worried...as she should be. I feel kinda bad...leaving her home alone...”

“...is your dad…?”

“He's alive...just not there. He's been busy, has a munitions factory after all, so he doesn't get home much.”

John frowned a bit, he could see how weighed down with choices she was. Go home to help her mum...keep her sane in all this, or stay out here and try to help in any way she can.

“...I'm sure you'll do what's right.”

“...problem is I'm not sure what's right...”

She was cut off by a loud bang, subconsciously ducking behind John. John in turn had pulled his sidearm, something he learned long ago to always keep on your person. He aimed it towards the sound, only to see a man running out behind a dog waving a meat cleaver.

“You damn mutt!” He screamed in French. “Steal from me will you!?”

The dog quickly scurried behind John as well, trembling at Roses' side.

John rolled his eyes and re-holstered his sidearm, heart still beating a mile a minute. He held up his hand as the man approached, trying to calm him.

“Hold on now sir.” He spoke in French. “Dogs just trying to survive like everyone else. I understand the situation but the dog doesn't think the same way we do. I doubt he deserves the cleaver for that.”

“I have people to feed! That's more important than some damn mutt!”

“And I understand that. Why don't I just pay you for the hunk of meat he stole hm? Then everyone can go their own way in peace. There's enough blood spilling all around anyway.”

The man looked at him for a moment, almost confused as to why he was defending some mutt. The dog itself could replace the meat it stole five times over, as much as even the man didn't like to think so.  
But he relented, his hulk not giving him much room for further complaint. He was out of breath just from chasing the dog a few hundred yards from his shop to where they were now.

“Fine then, I'll accept the money. But if I see that dog again...”

“Yes yes I know.” John said as he pulled out some money and stuffed it in his hand. 

The man just grunted and went back to his shop, quite a few more dollars richer than the meat was even worth John, was sure.

“...he always has been a bit of a brute honestly.” Rose said as she knelt to pet the dog. “Even saw him chase off starving kids with that cleaver of his.”

“...nutter that one.” John said as he turned to them, watching as the dog flopped on it's back, waiting for belly rubs.

“...why did I just save that mutt?”

“Cause you're a good man and you can't stand any life lost.”

“...you have a point there...” He said as he bent down now too, scratching the dogs ear. “But I'm not going to be able to protect him again.”

The dog looked at him, big brown sad eyes baring down on his soul. He tried to stay unmoving as he stared at the scruffy gray dog, but he could feel his heart melting. And to make matters worse, Rose was giving him a similar look as well.

“...what do you want me to do? I can't keep him. We're not allowed pets.”

“I'm sure he'd make a great trench dog. Lots of things he could learn to do. And with these ears of his, bet he could detect attacks before you lot could, yeah?”

“...” John sighed, finding he lost this battle. Between a woman and a dog, how could he win? “Oh alright...I'm pretty chummy with the CO, I'm sure I could talk him into it.”

Rose smiled, and the gray dog jumped up, bounding all over John and licking his face.

“What do you think you'll call him then?”

“...I'm rubbish at names...he can be...K9. That's your name, K9.”

“Real original there mate.”

“I said I was rubbish at it.”

She only laughed.

 

Later, as night had settled in, Rose returned to the Inn with John, not having anything better to do for the night. The dog, K9, had trailed happily behind the both of them the whole way. The only issue that remained now...was getting Mrs. Brodeur to allow the dog to stay. She was not an animal person, well, beyond birds anyway. She had at least a half dozen canaries in her lounge and for some reason, and beyond their nature, they'd like to wake in the night and chirp away.  
He made a wise decision not to complain about it. But this decision often lead to very little sleep.

But maybe he could play on that little soft side of her a bit. Maybe mammals weren't her thing, but birds were still a companion to her. Maybe he could get her to see that's what this dog was to him. A companion, and possibly, a future soldier.

That...didn't play out as well as he had hoped. No sooner had the dog crossed the threshold, then she'd been charging out screaming for the offending animal to be removed. No doubt the smell had tipped her off. The dog smelled like he rolled in piles of horse dun and then played around in an open grave afterward or something.

Ultimately, it ended up being Rose that intervened and had a woman to woman talk with her. Eventually she backed down, allowing it, but begrudgingly.

“...you have a knack for words.” He said as he looked at her, honestly intrigued.

“You have to know how to hold your own when your a woman out here on your own.”

“And bloody brilliant it was.”

She smiled at his approval. It was rare for her to get such a thing out here.

“What is that smell...?” Martha said as she walked out of the dining area, wafting a hand in front of her face. “Oh...”

“Martha, I'd like you to meet K9, who presently is about to receive a bath.”

K9 whined in disapproval.

“Well I certainly hope so. And hello Rose. I didn't know you knew John?”

“Yeah. We met recently, him and Jack.”

“Oh you must have had fun with that bloke.”

“He's not so bad, when you get to know him.”

“True. Too bad he had to leave early, he was an interesting man to talk to...when he wasn't flirting...”

“That's Jack for you.” John said with a wave of his hand. “He flirts but that's about it. He's harmless and even if he tends to make situations uncomfortable at times, he knows when to draw the line. He's taken anyway so don't worry.”

“...he's taken but he flirts?” Rose asked.

“Jack doesn't cheat. His partner lets him flirt, nothing comes of it and it's just Jack being Jack. Usually once the initial flirt is over he doesn't repeat it with the same person...all the time...”

“...so what? That's his way of breaking the ice and making friends?” Martha asked.

“Sorta, yeah.”

“...weirdo...”

“Anyway...” John said, raising his voice a pitch. “Where can I get smelly boy here bathed?”

“Well not in the tub in your room, that's for sure. Mrs. Brodeur will kill you. Bring him round back, I'll fill a basin in the back room.”

He followed the two women, having to pick up K9 as he had a sudden fit of 'nope'. He was not liking this idea of baths at all, but he wasn't getting out of it.

He didn't go peacefully though. Soon as Martha had the basin filled, he squirmed, and kicked, and whined bloody murder. It took the three if them to get him in the basin, and again to bathe him.  
After all was said and done, the water was stained a nasty brown and black mixture, and poor K9 looked like a drowned rat.

The lot of them couldn't help an amused chuckle at this. K9 on the other hand, was far from amused, and his laid back ears and narrowed eyes showed it. This did little but elicit more laughter on his part though.

Finally, they stopped letting the poor dog suffer, and Rose took a towel to him, drying him off. John followed suit by giving his coat a good brush, having to resort to a horse brush because it was all there was on hand.

It did the trick though and after all was said and done, the dog looked like he'd never been a street dog.  
By this time it was half passed twelve and everyone was exhausted. John bid the women goodnight and made his way upstairs with the dog, leaving the two women in the foyer.

“I suppose I should get going then.” Rose said, reaching for her coat.

“Oh no you don't. You know how rowdy the men get at night once they've gotten a few good drinks in them, it's not safe for you to walk back. You'll stay here tonight.”

“I couldn't impose. Besides, you know Mrs. Brodeur won't allow it if I don't pay.”

“Then you stay in my room. My boards free long as I work for her, so there's nothing she can make you pay for.”

“She'll try...”

“Oh come on.” Martha prodded as she grabbed her hand, pulling her upstairs.

Martha was on the same floor as John, though it was through a door at the end of the hall where a few rooms were cordoned off. These were the rooms the employees stayed in. They would normally have used another door that went down another set of stairs back there, but it had been damaged in a bombing, so it was no longer of any use.   
On top of it all, most the other employees had left as soon as the war reached the doorstep of the town, all except Martha. Not like she had much to go back to anyway. In her attempts to make her own way in the world, she angered her family, so they weren't on speaking terms. Nor did they even know where she was for that matter...

Martha sighed deeply as she stopped in front of her door and opened it. The room was smaller than the rooms in the rest of the building, as were the rest of the rooms in the employees quarters. It wasn't a closet by any means, and a person could live comfortably in it with basic necessities. There was room for a wardrobe, the bed, and a side table. There was even enough room for a small table and chair set by a window where one could enjoy tea, or food, or simply write or read.   
Two people on the other hand...

“Bit cramped with two people...and I hope you don't mind sharing a bed?”

“Not at all. Long as I have a place to lay my head, I'm happy.”

“So Rose you are. Bet you'd be a hell of a soldier if it was allowed.”

“Who says it has to be allowed?” She asked as she sat on the bed. 

Martha turned slowly to regard her friend. “...what are you thinking in that head of yours Rose?”

Rose only shrugged as she bent down and began unbracing her boots.

“Rose, don't ignore me. What are you up to?”

“...lots of civilians are helping in the war...fighting the Central powers. Men, women, children. If I'm out here might as well be doing something.”

“...don't Rose. It's not worth the risk.”

“...I'm already smuggling weapons for different groups.”

“Rose. Are you barmy? You're going to get yourself killed. Do you know what they'll do to you if the catch you? I mean...you're a woman...you know what they'll do before they kill you.”

Rose only huffed as she kicked off her boots, sending them across the floor. “The worlds at war Martha. It don't matter if I'm involved or not, that could still happen to me. I need to be doing something if the possibility of me dying is there. Least I'll go out doing something right.”

“...you're a nutter Rose.” She said as she made her way across the room to change.

Rose sighed and got up, walking over to look out the window. Was she being stupid by doing this? Would she really make much of a difference by helping? She heard death tolls from the front, how many died in one day. All those deaths and no one was gaining any ground. Would it be any different for the little pockets of rebellion?

“Rose?”

“Hm?” She turned to Martha, being met by a concerned look from her friend.

“...I'm sure if this is the choice you've made...then it has to be the right one. Probably going to sound stupid but, there's something about you. You're not meant for the straight forward path everyone expects of a woman.”

“...easy for you to say. And in times like this guys would say so too. But what about after?”

“Oh, I think there's hope for men yet. Look at John. Not your typical bloke there, I told him bout' wanting to be in medicine...to work beyond all expectations and be a doctor. He didn't laugh me off, or coddle me. He welcomed the idea. Can't be the only man out there who does. So I'm not going to give up, and neither should you.”

“...regardless of what we want Martha...we still have to survive this war first...”

“No one knows the future, so best we can do is take it one step at a time. But it doesn't mean we can't plan for after, in case. Why risk being unprepared after all?”

That earned a small smile from Rose, better than nothing Martha supposed. Laughing a bit at her friend, she tossed her a night gown.

“That'll be more comfortable than sleeping in that dress.”

Rose nodded and slipped out of the dress rather quickly, she was pretty knackered and she was finding it harder and harder to keep her eyes open.

Martha was already in the bed once Rose had finished and made her way over. Soon as Rose climbed in, Martha put out the light, settling in.

It stayed quiet like that for a bit, both women were exhausted, but both still had racing minds as well.

“That John though...” Martha started, startling Rose a bit.

“What about him?”

“One thing you can't deny, he's a handsome bloke, uniform or not.”

“...really? Are we really going there?”

“Well why not? You can't tell me you haven't noticed?”

“We're really doing this?”

“When's the last time you had a little girl talk?”

“...yes, he's a handsome bloke, and as much as I'd like to reflect on that, my eyes are getting heavier. I'm up for a good chat in the morning though.”

“Sounds good to me. We need a little light hearted conversation between all this hell.”

Rose only nodded in agreement, her eyes already closed. It wasn't long before she was out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this seems to be doing okay enough to continue on a bit further. Still Considering this story as a trial story though. Just till I'm sure of the interest in it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As must always happen in war, the quiet times get cut short and it's a scramble for survival.

John yawned loudly as he entered the small eating area downstairs. Martha and Rose were already awake, talking and giggling at the table. This stopped abruptly though as John entered the room, K9 close at his heels.

“...did I miss something?” He asked with a tilt of his head.

“Nope.” Rose said as she took a sip of her coffee, eyes looking forward at Martha who sat across the table from her. This put Martha back into a fit of giggles that Rose couldn't help but reciprocate.

John again asked the same question but got no response this time. “...stop it. You're making me feel like I should be concerned right now...” But he stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets and made his way over to them, giving them a perplexed look before removing his hands again and taking a seat by Rose.

“See K9 has taken quite the liking to you.” Rose said at last, once the laughing fit had passed.

“Oh aye. Slept right up on the bed by me all night. I get the odd feeling I'm going to be the one forced to wash the sheets now.”

“Might be.” Martha said as she took a sip of coffee. “Wouldn't worry bout' it too much right now though. Doubt sheets are going to be on Mrs. Brodeur's mind at the moment.”

“Why? What's going on?”

“Evacuating the town earlier than expected. They want everyone out regardless, not just the children. That's all they said but, if they're giving an order like that...”

“The lines threatening to break...” John finished in a low voice. “I'm getting the feeling I'm about to be going back to a bigger hell than I left.”

Everyone went quiet for a few minutes, no one really sure where that left any of them. With what little was revealed to Martha the night before, she knew her friend might not be able to stay with her. Rose was involved with things, dangerous things. And her role in all this could only broaden. Smugglers usually climbed up in the ranks if they were brave enough, and Rose certainly was a brave enough person. She'd no doubt become an informant, a spy. Her life would be all but forfeit at that point. There was no turning back after that.

She herself would probably still be stuck as a maid or something, which she detested greatly. Times had changed, but there were still people out there that looked down on her. Her color and gender shouldn't make a difference. It didn't make her any different from anyone else.

She shook her head, garnering her a look from John.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Just...thinking is all.”

He gave her a concerned look but said nothing else. He turned his attention to Rose now as she stared down into her coffee mug.

“You popped in early eh?”

“Never left. Was too late to head out so I stayed here.”

“Ah. Probably the wiser choice.”

K9 nudged his hand from his opposite side and he looked down at the gray dog.

“Would you happen to have a basin I can use for a water dish? Maybe something for him to eat?”

Martha nodded with a smile and got up, finding a medium tin basin and snatching a small bit of meat from the hut out back. She knew she'd catch hell for it but, she'd pass it off as someone stealing it. Wasn't uncommon these days.  
She set the basin in the corner of the room and laid the meat down and K9 went to work on both, sounding as happy as any dog could.

“So you think your CO will for sure let you keep him?” Martha asked as she took her seat again.

“I've no doubt. He actually is a pretty easy going man. Would have been teaching his kids if not for the war starting.”

“You can't be all that old then eh?” Martha asked, trying to sound discreet about it. She did her best not to react when Rose kicked her lightly under the table.

If he'd noticed, he didn't show it. He just shrugged his shoulders and got up to get himself some coffee. “Twenty four. Old enough but not all that old I suppose. I am just a grade school teacher, not like I was studying for a professorship. Though I won't lie, I wouldn't mind it.”

“Mind like yours, I think you'd do great as a professor.”

He gave Rose a look as he returned to his seat, taking a careful sip of the hot drink. “You really believe that?”

“Well...yeah. Can tell you've got quite a mind on you there.”

“Well, thank you. Too bad it's being wasted on this war...but then again, can't complain. I did sign up.”

The sounds of explosions stopped everyone in their tracks. The only one to move had been John as he ran to the window, taking his chair out along the way and nearly stumbling.  
He didn't say much as he stared outside, but his actions spoke volumes.

“Martha! Grab what you can, and anything you think would fit Rose! I doubt she'll be able to stop to get anything from where shes staying! Hurry!” He was out of the room well before either of them had a chance to respond in any way. He was making his way up to his room to gather his things, K9 right on his heels. 

The explosions continued outside, mixed with the terrified screams of people as they ran for their lives. By the sounds he judged that they weren't attacking the town directly, they were just in the line of fire. It sounded more like mortar fire to him which was dangerous enough, but at least it wasn't the big guns.

Stuffing everything back into his rucksack, he threw his uniform on as quickly as he could, leaving it slightly disheveled looking. But there just wasn't time for making it look perfect.   
He grabbed his coat from off the stand and threw it on, grabbing his sidearm and attaching it before throwing his rucksack on. 

He was out the door again in record time and back down the stairs just as Rose and Martha returned as well.

“Wheres Mrs. Brodeur?” John asked, only now really taking into account he hadn't yet seen her.

“She went off earlier this morning to see a friend.” Martha responded, out of breath and very justly terrified.

“She'll be alright then. She's been here long enough to know what to do. Now do you both have everything you need?”

“Enough to get us going.” Martha responded again.

He gave a nod before guiding them to the door, carefully opening it and peeking out. There were no soldiers about other than the ones that were on leave here, so he assumed he had been right in his assumptions. They just got caught under heavy mortar fire. But it was hitting this part of town head on and he had to get them out of the danger zone.

He glanced back at them, noticing how they were doing their best to hold back their terrified looks now, trying to stay brave. He found in this moment just how proud he was of them. It almost made the fear he had in his heart soften, feeling as though these two had a good chance of surviving this war. He just felt it.

He glanced down at K9 now who looked about ready as the two women did, and he took a deep breath before swinging the door open wider. “Right then, Allons-y...” 

He stepped out carefully at first, noticing that they would have to be quick about their escape, as the mortars were coming down faster now.  
He turned back to the two women, his eyes speaking everything he couldn't. He gripped Rose's hand at this point and instinctively she clenched on, reaching her other one back to grab Martha's.

“Right then...RUN!!!”

And with that they were thrown into a hell that up till that point, they only had heard from soldiers that had passed through. They would each scream as a mortar would hit somewhere nearby, then several more. Dirt and rock and other debris getting kicked up all around and pelting them as they ran.  
But John they noticed, barely flinched. He was so use to it by now that even when one hit only feet away from them, he didn't even react to it. Not a wince or a jolt. The only response he showed was yanking Rose sideways more behind him, causing her to pull Martha in the same direction. It had saved them from the worst of the shrapnel that was thrown up by it.

K9 was well ahead of them, stopping every now and then to look back at them or to look around. It wasn't long before they noticed John was taking the lead from the dog. K9 was leading them away from the war zone. With his hearing he could probably pin point the sounds of the shells as they flew through the air, and he could move them away from there before it even hit.

And so it wasn't long before they were free of the death zone. They stopped to catch their breath while the mortar shells burst in the not too far off distance. People could still be heard screaming and crying, some begging for help.

The urge to rush back in and help was felt by all of them, but they knew if they entered their chances of getting blown apart this time were great. They had to wait until hell stopped raining down upon them all.

And after what seemed like years, it finally did. The explosions stopped, but the screams of the people intensified.   
It was now that the three of them ran back towards the other half of the town, or what remained of it anyway.

Most of the buildings that were still standing, if only barely, no longer were. In fact there was hardly even a piece of wall that was left standing. And as they walked through they could see the signs of people that didn't make it out. Here and there they could see a hand or some other limb sticking out, or a pool of blood seeping out from under a pile of wood and stone.

Rose could feel her stomach turn a bit at the sight of the blood, at the knowledge of just what sights awaited everyone under the piles of rubble. But she shook it off, she couldn't help them, but there were still many others that she could. So working with John and Martha, they went about doing what they could for the walking wounded. But the badly injured were piling up more and more. 

John and Rose could do little in the way for help with them other than comfort them or stem the flow of blood. Usually doing this as Martha went to work on them, showing just how much expertise she truly had. Showing everyone in fact. The looks towards her that day changed immensely. 

By nightfall the sense of urgency in the town finally died down. The deceased were moved to the other side of town that hadn't been effected by the mortar blasts. And this way families could morn their loved ones in peace while the living didn't have to look at them and possibly feel a sense of survivors guilt.   
But moving them still did nothing to dissipate the fog that lay over everyone, nor should it. This should never have happened, but it was a massive operation to constantly move people and the military was bogged down so much that it was often left up to the people to move themselves. And it was after this that the people wished they had. They felt guilt for waiting too long to make plans to move. But this made the decision solid, this would be the last night spent here. Everyone would be ordered out in the morning.

While the citizens were slowly winding down for the night, John sat some yards away from them on the remnants of a wall, looking out over the destruction. Part of him felt at fault for this, like he should have prevented this, being a soldier and all. That he should have made sure this war had indeed been over by Christmas as promised. But he knew deep down that there wasn't actually anything he could have done. He was as much at the mercy of this war as anyone else was. Doing whatever the higher ups said, even if it sounded like complete lunacy.

His hand went to his sidearm quickly as he heard rubble displaced behind him. Upon turning though he found Rose making her way over, looking exhausted. He lowered his hand and instead patted the spot next to him, inviting her to sit. She did so without complaint, barely holding herself straight up.

“Quite a day huh…?” He asked, eyes looking forward again.

She nodded slowly, only making a quiet response to his question.

“...are you alright? I mean...I know doing what you did today couldn't have been easy...”

“Easier than what others had to go through today...”

“That's true.” He said quietly. 

And the silence carried on again, neither even sure what could be said anymore. Both just scanned their eyes over the destroyed town, wondering just how many were still buried under the rubble, undiscovered. People who had no families to speak of their existence, forgotten by those whose first worry was for their own families.   
All John could do was curse this war, curse all the innocent deaths caused by assassinations and power struggles. Things these poor people had no control over.

He glanced to his left when he felt a gentle hand on his, giving a slight squeeze. Rose wasn't looking at him, her eyes were still locked on the battered landscape before them. But she did utter a slight, 'I know', as if she could read exactly what his mind was thinking.  
He returned his own glance back to the ruined town before them, knowing that he would most likely end up back at the front the following day, earlier than he was meant to be.

He felt a slight tremble come over him at that thought, realizing how afraid he really was to go back to the front. He knew how many soldiers died each day, and how his survival expectancy was very low. Maybe this would be the last night he'd be able to talk with Rose and Martha, two women that had become some of his closest friends in just a matter of days. He hated thinking that he may never see them again, that they may never know what happened to him after this, if he did die. He knew though, if he somehow survived this, that he'd probably track them down. They may help him feel sane again after all this was over.

But again, this was if he survived. He sighed deeply, giving her hand a slight squeeze before slipping off the wall. She gave him a worried look but he flashed her the best smile he could muster.

“There's no time to lament right now. The days will come in the future. For now...we have to make sure there even is a future.”

She nodded slightly as she slipped off the wall as well, looking back towards where the makeshift hospital was. “These people should never have had to face this...”

“...no one should. But there's nothing we can do about that right now. We just have to do our best to prevent something like this from happening again. But I think...that's damn near impossible.”

“There's no stopping the fact there's going to be plenty of deaths...and many of them innocent. We just...have to make them not in vain...”

He looked at her, his face devoid of any sort of emotion which frightened her a bit.

“...not we. But I will. It's probably best you went back home, your parents will worry about you.”

“...I can take care of myself.”

“I know. But this is best.”

He slipped away from her now, trying his best not to look back. He could only hope that she'd take his advice and go back, even if he had to go a bit cold to get her to do so. But somehow, deep inside, he knew she wasn't buying it. And he couldn't make her do anything she didn't want to do, but he just hoped she would.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

The morning had dawned long before John had opened his eyes. He wasn't even sure when or how he had fallen asleep, with everything that had happened.  
But as he sat up and looked around, he could see people rushing about, using carts and wagons and vehicles to try and load people and necessities up. He even noticed that someone had managed to obtain a couple larger trucks to load the wounded on. Somehow these people were managing to continue forward with life, without the help of soldiers or the government. They were practically on their own from day one and they had learned to accomplish much. He wondered if they really needed them around to help at all. Probably only to keep the bad guys away, they seemed to be doing quite well otherwise.

He stood up and stretched his arms out, grunting as his back popped a few times. He noticed he hadn't fallen asleep in the most comfortable of areas, snuggled amongst a pile of rubble, using his rucksack as a pillow.

After rubbing his sore neck a bit and giving his back a few more pleasured pops, he bent down and picked up his rucksack, slinging it over his shoulder. Was probably time to find some of the other soldiers and figure where they were supposed to meet up to head back.

He saw Rose and Martha along the way, both helping to load the injured on trucks. He frowned a bit upon seeing them, feeling guilty for how he acted to Rose the night before, and for attempting to sneak off without them noticing. But as he saw another old comrade a few yards away, a whole new idea came over him.

He walked over to his friend with a raised hand and a forced smile, determined to do something right before he seemingly marched off to his death.

Martha nudged Rose when she caught sight of him from the corner of her eye. Rose looked over and produced a sour look on her face.

“Oh don't. You know he was just worried about you. Right to be as well. If he only knew what you were up to...”

Rose hushed her, not giving her any chance to continue on. “And he doesn't have to know. He's got enough on his plate already.”

“You know regardless of him knowing or not, it isn't going to stop him from worrying about you. Don't know what his feelings really are but, it's obvious he doesn't want to see you hurt.”

“And he won't see me hurt. God Martha, you're acting like we'll see him again.”

“And who says we won't? We all got on pretty well, I don't see him forgetting about us.”

“How can you say that when we've only known him a few days?”

“Cause we're still alive because of him.” She said no more after this and turned back to the injured on the truck, trying to make sure they were all comfortable.

Rose only shook her head before climbing up onto the truck to help. She was rather thankful to one of the local farmers who had brought some trousers over for some of the women. They were easier to work in and that left no area for any perverted man to peek a look. Even with the situation as it was, there was always those few blokes who didn't care.

“Excuse me? Miss Jones?”

Both Rose and Martha turned, each equally surprised that someone was looking for her.

“Yes? I'm Miss Jones. Can I help you?”

“I'm Mr. Williams. Uh, Rory...Williams. I'm a friend Of Johns. From the uh, medical unit. Sorry if I'm a bit stuttery, been a long day. He tells me you have nursing experience?”

Martha blinked a few times before she could finally answer. “Yeah...a bit. Not school taught mind you...just...”

“Doesn't matter how you were taught, just matters that you were. We could really use the help, if you're willing?”

“...yes, of course. I'll help in any way I can.”

“Good. Thank you so much. And you Miss Tyler was it?”

She nodded slowly.

“You're welcome as well if you wish? There's things we could find for you to do. Better than wandering about on your own.”

She was confused at first but the slight glint in his eyes let her know he knew what she was up to. So she nodded in agreement, earning a curt smile from him. 

“Great. Meet me back by the makeshift hospital when you're done here.”

He was off about as quickly as he had appeared, leaving both women wondering if that had indeed just happened. But one look in Johns general direction told them that it had. 

He smiled broadly at them, giving a wave as he turned round and headed down the road, K9 close behind.

“I'll never be able to thank that man enough.” Martha said, excitement evident in her voice.

Rose nodded yet again, realizing now that Martha may have been right. This man was to be trusted. But if he'd only known what he had done by securing her transport as well. She had no doubt she was about to step up in the resistance world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, seeing as I've been getting a lot of positive remarks to this story, I have decided to continue it. I'm still working heavily on the other two as well...I honestly didn't think this through very well. XD I'll do my best to keep all three updated regularly.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With his leave brought to an abrupt halt, John makes his way back to the operations base to await orders. He meets old friends along the way, one he may wish he hadn't, and made a new one. All this followed by a worse hell then he faced in his previous deployment, and it's only to get much worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, other then having to change some things to put John and the others where I would like them to be, I will for the most part be leaving this as historically correct as I can. Which means I will follow how the actual battles played out as closely as I can. And it does start getting a bit gruesome at this point, it is war after all. May not be horribly so, but it might effect more than others.

When John finally made his way back to the operations base, he found it to be rife with action. People were rushing about trying to track down the many detachments that were awaiting their orders. Still others were barking orders about one thing or another, their words lost in the throng of many others around them.

John almost wasn't sure what to do at first. This was only the second time he had been at an operations base, since his first deployment with his detachment. Although he was stressing out severely at this point, it was nothing near the first time. You had no idea what to expect from your first experience, where you were going, how bad it would be. At least the second time around all he had to worry about was if he'd get killed this time.

Finally, taking a deep breath, he tugged lightly on the rope he used for K9's makeshift leash, and went to look for his CO.

Now the man he called his CO wasn't actually the CO of his detachment, but he was in charge of the deployment of detachments in the field. He was a top officer but he preferred to be out here, hands on with the men he sent out, possibly to their deaths. The man had a strange way of looking at things. Instead of staying behind a desk miles away from the battle lines, in relative safety, he chose to be here. He always would say that he wanted to see the faces of the many men he was sentencing to death, so he could forever carry their faces with him, and remember the sons and fathers he was taking from their families.

John always thought that a grim way to look at things, but he could understand him. At least it showed he cared. The way it usually went was the higher ups sent you out here, got you killed, and immediately worked on pushing more men out there to replace you. They were under the delusions that numbers would win the war...if the war continued on...oh how the numbers dead would rise.

He shook the thought from his mind as he finally caught sight of his CO. Even though he could only see his back at the moment, he could tell there had been some changes. The usually snug fit uniform was obviously hanging a bit loose now, and his cap fell forward as he stood hunched over a large map.

John took on a concerned look as he walked over, stopping just as he got under the roof of the open tent, stiffening as he announced himself. He didn't salute though. It was a strange game the two would play as John would refuse and his CO was adamant he'd get him to do so one day.

He looked up when he heard John, his face looking much older than his actual age. His mustache was unkempt and surrounded by a shadow of facial hair that was slowly growing in around it. The poor man was a wreck.

“...Alistair...”

“Brigadier at the moment Corporal. This lot are a bunch of tough necks.”

The other officers gave him a look before continuing what they were doing.

“Brigadier...are you alright…?”

“Don't worry about me right now. We have much bigger issues to attend to. I do apologize for pulling you out of your leave early but...well I heard there wasn't much left to rest properly at.”

“Unfortunately...sir. Part of it still stands but...”

The Brigadier only nodded before mumbling something to the other officers and leading John out, leaving their complaints in the dust behind them.

“We got hit hard I'm afraid.” The Brigadier went on as they moved away from the tent. “The bloody Germans seem to get us at every turn.”

“What happened at the front Brigadier?”

“Bombings on a mass scale, mortars, more gas attacks. I did what I could do to preserve the lives left and pulled them back, we lost all that ground.”

“...how many have we lost this time?”

“...we still don't have a definite number...we're trying to count the ones that managed to come back but...they're all too injured to look in on right now. They're in very bad shape, faces burned from the gas, lungs failing. So many with bits and pieces missing. They're mostly being sent off right as they get here. This isn't a bloody war, it's a large scale massacre...”

John stayed quiet for a few moments, knowing full well if his leave hadn't fallen right when it did, he'd be among those soldiers. He seemed to be very lucky for the most part, though how long his luck would last was anyone's guess.

It was then that he saw the men they were talking about, or more heard them first. Their screams of agony managed to rise above the men screaming orders, the multiple heavy footsteps of men marching by. And it was making him wish for the ear deafening explosions of the battlefield, anything so he wouldn't have to hear their cries.

Men clenched onto the sleeves of the nurses caring for them, the men turning into boys in front of his eyes. The nurses were not only the women trying their best to save their lives, they were mothers, sisters, wives...women that stood in for the ones back home. The ones they couldn't have at their side as they faced death. The younger men though...they were the hardest to watch. They clung to the nurses, blood from their wounds smearing on the blue of their dresses, the white of their aprons taking on the red color of the cross that they bore on the front. The young men clung onto them and screamed, cried for their mothers. The terror evident in their voices as the fear of dying clenched their hearts.

Then there were the ones who no longer had to bare the pain or fear death, because their battle was over. He watched as more dead passed him than the living, carried off on stretchers with a white sheet covering them. The blood from their wounds left the white turning a dark crimson. Some would have an arm flop down to the side as they passed, the lifeless limb bouncing as the men carried them away. Still others had been dead for so long that they locked up already. He saw one pass by that, even though the sheet covered him, still allowed the look of terror on his face to be seen. His jaw was locked in an open, screaming position, unmistakable from beneath the sheet.  
John's stomach began to turn. Only days ago, he sat in the trenches with these men.

The Brigadier set a gentle hand on his shoulder, guiding him away without a word. John didn't struggle against it, he couldn't stand the sight any longer.  
Next to him K9 gave a whimper, noticing his masters distress. The smell of death all around was undoing the poor dogs nerves as well.

The Brigadier looked down at the mutt, deciding the dog would do for a great distraction from what they had just witnessed.

“...who's your little friend here John?”

“Hm…? Oh, this is K9.”

“...K9? Not very original is it?”

“Best I could come up with at the time Brigadier.”

“Fair enough. But, why do you have a dog?”

“We both sort of took a liking to each other. I was hoping we could find him a job.”

“No pets John.”

“He saved our lives back in the village. He could hear the mortar shells before they reached us, directed us away from them. He could be of great use.”

“Yes. Perhaps that is true. Very well then John, since he's already proven himself. I'll talk to your commander about it then.”

“...should I be surprised that that louse managed to make it out alive?”

The Brigadier raised his brows a bit. “A louse hm? Makes him an odd choice as a friend then doesn't it?”

“I've known him since we were children, doesn't mean I don't think he's an ass.”

“I honestly don't know how he managed Lieutenant.”

“I could come up with a few explanations...”

“...I feel as though I don't want to know.”

“Neither of us do. He can be a scary man sometimes. I have no doubt he stepped over people for his position.”

“...well...the both of you are being moved to different detachments...since your own has been all but decimated...”

John frowned a bit but said nothing else on the subject, he just made a mental note to try not to get too close to anymore of his comrades.

“You're more than likely going in with a mixed detachment of Scottish Regiment and British Regiment. You're going to be working with the French at Loos to try and push through the German lines there.”

“...in your opinion...what's our chances?”

“...I think you know that answer very well without asking...”

John only nodded a few times, looking around again. “So, where's my detachment then?”

“Right up this way, everyone else has already reported in.”

Again John nodded and followed the Brigadier silently the rest of the way.

 

When they reached the detachment, the Lieutenant stood up right away, a broad grin on his face. He still didn't have himself put together quite yet. He had his uniform jacket off, just wearing his blue shirt, suspenders shrugged off his shoulders. He had his cap backwards, strands of his dark hair sticking out here and there.

“Well hello there John. Nice to see you finally decided to join us. And hello to you too Alistair Lethbridge Stewart...”

“That's Brigadier or sir to you Lieutenant. Don't overstep your place.”

“My place?” He asked, putting a hand to his chest and feigning hurt. “How long have I known you sir, and you would talk to me like that?”

“Don't start that with me 'Harry', this is war, you'll do as you're told.”

“...Harold...”

“You can't regard me correctly than why should I you? Now, if you would...” The Brigadier said as he moved closer, nearly touching noses with the shorter man. “Put your top back on, do it neatly, and turn your hat round the right way. At least try to look presentable man.”

Harry stared him down for a moment before doing as he was told, a glare permanently fixed on his face.

“You lot will be leaving in a half hours time, and you have a new comrade.” He said as he patted K9 on the head. “Remember he's a soldier first, companion second. Try to keep it together.”

They all gave a cheerful 'sir' as he gave them all a nod and headed off without saying another word.

“Can you believe his cheek? Where's he get off...”

“He's older than you and he's your superior, that's where he gets his 'cheek'. Watch yourself Harold, or you're going to find yourself in a place you can't dig yourself out of.”

“Oh don't start with me John. Why is it you always have to play the good boy card, eh? Hasn't helped you get up the ladder very quickly now has it?” Harold asked as he swiped at John's hat, knocking it off his head. He picked it up, turning the black fabric over in his hands, poking at the red and white checkered design that ran around the brim. “Thought Scot's were a bit more belligerent eh? Already heard you're pulling off the drunk act quite well already, why not finish it off eh?”

John grabbed at his collar and lifted him up a bit as he shoved him backwards over some nearby barrels, making a move towards him before he even hit the ground.

“STOP!” Harold yelled as he waved a finger at him, not at all losing his cocky attitude. “I'm you're CO mate, touch me any further and I'll have you court marshaled in no time.”

“Now you listen to me Harry and you listen to me good.” John said as he bent down over him, not touching him but ready to do so if he felt the need. “I know you love to get a rise out of me, and as this proved it is easy for you to do. But rank be damned, you try to pick a fight with me I will fight back. If anyone Harry, ANYONE, is doing any kind of act to gain some ground it's you. How the hell you rise from Private to 2nd Lieutenant in a year anyway eh? Who'd you screw over eh?”

“...” Harold only pushed himself to his feet, dusting himself off and straitening his uniform. He ducked down for just a moment to pick up his own hat that had been knocked from his head in the scuffle, and perched it back on his head. “What I do is none of your concern John. And you'd do best to just continue the loyal dog act while you're under my command, after all...well...accidents do happen.”

“...are you threatening me?”

“Take it as you like. But if I were you, I'd wisely stay out of my way. We're not kids anymore John, that boyhood friendship is long gone. Accept it.” 

And with that he trudged off to do whatever it was he did before they deployed. John stayed quiet and didn’t move though, still watching the direction he disappeared in even though he was long out of sight.

“...you alright mate?” One of the men finally asked, breaking him from his trance like state.

“Aye. Just a spat.” He bent down and picked his hat back up, dusting it off and expertly placing it back on his head. It was only now that he noticed K9 was right at his side, lips curled back and lightly growling in the direction Harry went.  
John patted him lightly on the head, causing him to settle down a bit, but he knew that dog would forever mark Harry on his distrust list.

He shook the encounter off finally and walked over to the group waiting for their departure time, flopping down by them. Some of them had started a card game to pass the time, still others were taking the downtime to write letters to loved ones. A few he could see were sketching pictures while others just sat quietly and prepared themselves for the hell to come.

Further off from them, sitting on some crates, was a younger man, early twenties at best. He was messing with the brown frock that was over the top of his kilt, nervously pulling at it's hem. This was obviously going to be his first battle.  
Knowing exactly how the younger man felt, he got back up and walked over, sitting on a crate next to him.

“Doing ok there lad?”

“...trying sir. Scared to death really. First thing I saw coming in here was the hospital...”

“Ah, I see. Not something you want to see on your first incursion into battle.”

“...that obvious is it?”

“Way your worrying at your kilt, aye. Plus, we've all been there before, we all know that look. I'm John by the way. John Smith. You?”

“...Jamie. Jamie McCrimmon sir.”

“Nice to meet you Jamie.”

“Likewise sir.”

“Please, just John. I don't push ranks on newbies. Besides, I'm only a rank higher than you anyway.”

Jamie only nodded, continuing to pull at the hem on his brown frock. “They uh...they say it's near impossible to avoid death out there...once you go over the top and all...said it's all luck.”

“...well, for the most part that may be true. But there are still things you can do, to try to give yourself a chance. First off, don't ever lift your head over the trench wall unless it's absolutely necessary. If you're relaxing in the trench or doing whatever and you hear a whistling sound, get low as quick as you can. That's a shell coming in. When you go over the top, drop to the ground every couple yards and get back up, it'll be slow going but you'll give yourself a better chance of not getting hit by gunfire.”

Jamie nodded with each piece of information John gave to him, reserving it to memory as best he could. It was helping to ease the tension a bit, but not by much.

“You're the first to really give me advice really. The others just kind of...pick on me a bit, insult my intelligence. Might not be the brightest of the bunch but I'm not daft. And I can learn...”

“Don't take it to heart Jamie. They're all scared, even if they won't admit it. Teasing you takes a bit of the stress off themselves is all, they won't have much time to do that to you once we get out there. Just center on your job, don't try to be a hero just to look better in front of them. This wars turned more into a need for survival than anything else now.”

Again Jamie nodded, finally showing signs of relaxing more. “Thank you, I'll do my best to remember everything you've said.”

“Well, if you need anything else just come find me. I'll be in the trenches somewhere.” Then he patted him on the shoulder and got up. He left Jamie to his thoughts now as he settled down elsewhere to try to get a short nap before they moved out.

 

Not long afterwords, they were marching off towards their uncertain future. They learned a bit more about where they were going as they were briefed before leaving. They learned that for about four days before the initial attack, there would be an artillery bombardment, it would hopefully take a good portion of the Germans out before the men made their crossing over No Mans Land. Their forces would be taking on the German lines at Loos, while the French would push on and try to break through the German lines at Champagne and Vimmy Ridge in Arras.

John already had a terrible feeling about this, and not the usual terrible feelings. There had been rumors moving about even before the briefing, rumors that said the British were planning to use Chlorine Gas on the Germans at the battle. John had already seen the affects of that, and he wasn't keen on seeing it again. He also knew how the slightest change in wind direction could make the gas useless, or worse if it blew back their way. One thing he noticed when it came to gas attacks, they didn't seem to like to call it off just because the wind shifted. He decided to keep his gas mask as close at hand as possible. He even went as far as to search a supply officer out while they were leaving so he could grab one for K9.

 

It was quite a trek but at last the men arrived at their destination, seeing that other divisions had gotten there before them. They already had been working on the trench systems and had already made short work of it by the time they got there. All that was really left for them to do was to climb into the trenches and make themselves at home, for however long this battle went on. Some of the men were sent off to help with final preparations on the trenches though, while the rest were left to get themselves situated. This was the point in time that many men went about writing letters to family, having a final word ready for them in case this was the battle that sent them to their graves. Many were sure to at least say the general location of where they were, even if they sometimes weren't supposed to. But they knew full well what would happen to their bodies if they fell, ending up buried on the very field they fell upon. So they wanted their families to be able to try to locate them and bring them home one day if at all possible.

John, for the first time in a while, had people to write to. He wrote a letter each to Rose and Martha, Rory having told him where they would be stationed at. He even wrote one to Jack, which was an oddity in itself. He never wrote the man, but having seen what he just had, and knowing that Jack being a pilot was quite possibly the most dangerous thing ever, he decided to write to his friend. Pilots didn't last long, and he feared the day when the letter would come of his demise.

After he finished all the letters, he tucked them away in safety and laid his head back against the trench wall, reaching a hand out to pet K9 gently. The dog hadn't left his side at all since they had gotten here, he could tell the dog knew something very bad was coming.

And as each day passed, that worry built in everyone. As John had said, the men had little time to poke insults at Jamie, as each day brought a new ounce of fear with it. But it also meant they were primarily ignoring the young man, so John took up chatting with the boy when he could, trying his best to keep him calm. K9 was quite the help with this as well, and it caused John to note how much good an animal could be just by being there. It seemed to be therapeutic.

It was only days after this though, that the bombardment on the German front began. The explosions shook the ground, bits and pieces of debris often times managing to find their way into the allies trenches.  
This time was spent by the men in preparation. They went over all their equipment and made sure it was in working order. Some even drilled each other on how quickly they could get their gas mask on, just in case.

John helped Jamie out, knowing full well that this being his first time going over the top, his nervousness could cause him to overlook details in his equipment checks. He pretty much took the younger man under his wing, being sure he knew everything that he needed to know. It was a teacher thing he guessed, he couldn't not help someone learn things. But the younger man was also becoming a good friend and they often times joked around when there was time to. John was going against the very rules he had set down for himself, he knew. But he also knew he couldn't keep his sanity in all this if he denied himself friends to shed his fears off to, and vice versus of course.

But all fell silent the day of the assault. For a short time, just before the men went over the top, the artillery fell silent, causing any bit of calm in the men to slip away. Harold stood on a ladder against the trench wall, still below the wall itself as he kept and eye on his pocket watch, tracking the time. The men behind him were fixed in a straight line all the way down the trench system, waiting for further orders. 

“Affix Bayonets!” Harold called out, and the order was sent down the line.

The men fumbled nervously with the bayonets as they tried to attach them to the end of their rifles, many having them turned round the wrong way and fumbling to turn them the right way, often times dropping them. The veterans of battle were not immune to this uneasiness either. But eventually everyone had them affixed and waited quietly, many shaking.

John could hear prayers here and there, some asking for their survival to be allowed, or for their death to be quick if that was their fate.

After a short period, Harold put a whistle to his lips and pulled his sidearm, finishing the countdown in his head.

All of the men locked eyes on him now, knowing in mere moments he would blow the whistle and they would charge over the top.

John could hear Jamie's breathing come quicker as he stood next to him. A cursory glance over at him showed he was pale as a ghost and had broken out in a cold sweat, trembling all over.  
John set a hand on his shoulder and spoke quietly to him. “Just remember what I told you lad. Every few yards drop, get back up, drop. Same thing if we have to retreat.”

“What if I manage to make it to the wire?”

“You have to take the time to go round. I know it's tempting to try to go over some of the lower ones, but it'll catch you, you'll be doomed then. Do not go over them.”

Jamie nodded as he tightened his grip on his rifle, eyes locking on Harold again. Moments later, the whistle blew and Harold went further up the ladder, waving the arm his sidearm was in forward, motioning them on. It was the 25th of September, 1915, and the battle had begun.

The men went forward with shouts from their lungs, climbing up the ladders and heading over the top, some hit right off and falling back into the trench. Down the line the faint sound of bagpipes could be heard as the Scottish guard moved out further down the line. That's where John usually would have been but, they tended to move him around a lot, and he was never entirely sure why. But it didn't bother him either way, it was still the same war after all.

He reached the ground with the others and ran forward, letting his own scream erupt from his lungs. He lost track of Jamie right off and even Harold was no where in sight, though he almost wondered if his old friend had just dropped back into the trench. He wouldn't put it passed him.

He made his way forward, the ground around him exploding and throwing up dark patches of soil as shells landed all around them. Dirt and rock peppered him as he pushed forward, careful not to trip over the bodies that already lay on the ground before him.   
He did as he told Jamie every now and then, dropping to the ground and hopping back up after a few moments. He had no idea at this point if he was even anywhere near the German lines or not. The air was filled with lung crushing smoke from the artillery. He could barely see his hand in front of his face and more than once he nearly bumped into a comrade or two.

Something whizzed passed his face and he hissed as his cheek stung right after. A bullet had very nearly taken him out, luckily only grazing his cheek though. Shaking the near death off, he pushed onwards, no longer dropping to the ground anymore. If he couldn't see the German line then chances were they couldn't see them either.  
And so he kept pushing forward, the deafening sounds of exploding ordinance all around him. Between that and the sound of gunfire, he could hear the screams of men as they were hit. He could hear still others who screamed for help as they lay prone on the ground, but he couldn't stop for them. There was no where to hide out here, if he stopped, even for a moment, he'd be cut down.

Somehow, by some miracle, they pushed through the German line and managed to make it into the town of Loos-en-Gohelle. This had only been accomplished by the sheer ratio of allied soldiers compared to the number of Germans that held this part of the line.

John stumbled over to a group of his own men, falling down to the ground in front of them, exhausted. The men around him looked no better, each out of breath and barely able to even move. Some of them were having problems with muscle spasms in their legs, causing the legs to flinch about rapidly and become momentarily useless.

It wasn't long before the gunfire around their location slowly died down, as the German line there fell silent. Further out though they could still hear explosions and gunfire, as the others weren't having as much luck with their positions.

It was thinking of the others still stuck out in No Mans Land, still fighting and dying as they fought their way through, that he realized something. K9 was no where in sight.   
He sat up quickly, looking around. It was hard to locate anyone really as soldiers kept pouring into the town.  
He got up and looked around, calling out for him as he went. He vaguely remembered K9 being behind him as they went over the top, but through the hell of the battlefield thoughts of him slipped from his mind. He felt horrible about that, he really did. But there had just been so much going on.

After looking for what seemed like forever though, he finally spotted him near a group of soldiers, licking a young British soldiers face. Shortly after the young man took a deep ragged breath as he had somehow been resuscitated by K9's persistence.

The men patted K9 as John walked over, praising the scruffy dog.

“There you are boy!” John said as he closed the gap and knelt by him, taking the excited jumps and licks head on.

“He's your dog then?” One of the soldiers asked.

“Aye. We lost track of each other on the field. But I see he did alright for himself, a good boy. Saved his life did you?” He asked the dog as he scratched behind his ear.

“Trained well I see.” The soldier continued.

“Not trained at all actually. Took him right of the street not more than over two weeks ago.”

“...blimey. Gifted dog he is.”

“Very.” John stood again, saluting the soldier when he'd finally noticed his rank of Sargent. The man only shrugged it off and went about tending to the younger soldier while John and K9 headed back to their main group.

When they returned to the spot, he found quite a few more soldiers there, including Harold and Jamie. He sighed in relief when he saw the younger man, but cocked a brow a bit when he noticed Jamie had a set of bagpipes.

“What's this all about then?” He asked as he approached. 

Jamie practically beamed when he saw him, holding up the pipes. “One of the pipers went down sadly...and I...well...we're a piping family, I couldn't just leave it lying on the ground. So I picked them up and played everyone along.”

“Maybe he'd do better as our piper eh Harry?” After saying it he thought it sounded insulting to the younger man, but if Jamie thought it was he didn't show it. If anything he looked brighter still. He seemed so proud to be able to hold such an honor.

“Yeah, alright.” Harold said with a slight huff. “Doubt he's that much use as a soldier anyway. He's lucky he got this far, and probably only because the German's don't see the need in shooting a bagpiper in a dress.”

“For gods sake Harry. What the bloody hell is your problem lately? You've never knocked anyone before. Look, if you're scared there's no need to take it out on anyone else.”

All eyes fell on Harold at that point, the obvious sarcasm in John's voice made it clear he was calling him out.

“Push it John, please do. Give me a reason to drop you. As far as anyone would be concerned, you died out there somewhere, buried in a mass grave.”

“...uh...look. Isn't that a messenger?” Jamie piped up, trying his best to break the volatile atmosphere.

They both looked over as a man approached, out of breath. “Sir.” He said as he hacked a bit, still trying to salute at the same time. “Orders are to keep trying to push forwards.”

“What about the reserve troops?” Harold asked, his fight with John now forgotten.

“There's been no word yet from either Field Marshal French or Commander Haig sir.”

“...dammit. We keep moving forward then. Not like we have a bloody choice. If we get even more ripped to shreds then we already have, then we'll curse them from hell.”

He charged off after that, making sure to push the command down the lines. The thought of the distasteful idea was very evident on many a soldiers faces.

John only frowned. If things were this bad only on the first day, then god help them all.


End file.
